


the accidental ancient (working tittle)

by Cherryofthered



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherryofthered/pseuds/Cherryofthered
Summary: when a millennia old enemy comes back to finish things once and for all, who could she go to for help? Could she possibly trust the one man that used to hold her heart? She will need help to save this world from the monster that would try to rule it. But can she trust the one who once betrayal her so long ago.chapters 1-4





	the accidental ancient (working tittle)

**Author's Note:**

> original work in progress. please leave helpful comments if you want too.

Who am I

Of people, of places, of time?

Of color, and creed, and rhyme?

Am I red? Am I yellow?

Am I black or white?

Am I pop?

Am I rock?

Am I grunge or soul?

Am I classical?

Am I classic?

Am I man? Am I woman?

I am life. I am death.

I am hate. I am love.

I am dawn. I am dusk.

I am east. I am west,

From the alpha To the omega

From the first and to the last

I am all that

I am I am me

 

 

 

 

                                 ‘ I’ve been around for a long, long year, stolen a many man’s soul from grace,..mmmm…. please to meet you, hope you guess my name!

But what’s puzzling you is just the nature of my game! Ah yeah! …mmmmmm…’” she hums happily as she drives her cherry red Firebird down a country highway, a smile

beaming across her lips at the setting sun shinning on her face. She looks at the recorder sitting in the passenger seat, sighs, places the head set microphone on her head and

presses the record button. “I had gotten this recorder to write my ‘autobiography’,” she laughed softly, “ In hopes that some day someone would read or listen to it and know the

person I was. To know the truth that I and my kind protect. So somebody will know all, or” she gave a half chuckle, “most of what I have done in my life. The good… and the bad, and

take me as I am. For better or worst as my portion, should anything happen to me in the coming months I shall live on in their memories. And the truth shall set me free.

                                   The place of my birth is not on any map. Once I had left, I lost track of it through changing maps, the rise and fall of empires, changing names as they came and went.

I wish I remembered the names of the kingdoms around us, but I was young, fool hearty, and on a mission for vengeance. And now, like David Copperfield, all I know is that I was born, and memories

of a once proud people still linger in my weary mind. A people destroyed by the hand of man and the pieces washed away by the waves of time. I hold on to the past, for all my kind

really has is the past. We know nothing else. All I have been and all I have done are all part of me. I cannot escape it or the inevitable truth of the future, no matter hard I try.

                                 I wander around this world looking for a place where I belong. But were I belong is the road and the only place I am truly happy.” She speaks into her little recorder,

and sighs thinking about her life.

                                         "To quote a Metallica song 'Rover, Wander, Nomad, Vagabond, call me what you will!’ She laughs and then begins to sing softly with a sad far off look in

her eyes. ‘And the road becomes my bride. I am stripped of all but pride. So in her I do confide. And she keeps me satisfied. Gives me all I need. And with dust in throat I crave, only knowledge

will I save, to the game ‘I’ stay a slave.... And the earth becomes my thrown. I adapt to the unknown. Under wandering stars I’ve grown. By myself but not alone. I ask no one. And my ties

are severed clean. The less I have the more I gain. Off the beaten path I rein....” She smiles laughs softly, thinking of the irony, then sighs as the smile fades from her face.

                                       “ I’m not sure where to start, but as a good man once said ‘ when you don’t know were to start, it is best to start at the beginning.’ My name is Alya NA DRhea Lela Rykar (Rye-k-air),

or so I have called myself for more years than I’d like to remember, but most people just call me Drhea, (Dr-Ray-a) I was born long before the rise of the Egyptian Empire and culture.

I know not actually when, I guessed at the year, and the day I took the first day from a festival that my people celebrated every year. It lasted nearly two weeks, and every day was a celebration

of life. I don’t remember exactly what it was for; I only remember the music, dancing, people laughing at the jesters. It was a whole grand carnival of surprises that some could hardly wait to see

and that I could not wait to explore. It was the long awaited time of the year and peddlers came from all over just to sell their wares at the festival. Men and women proudly announced the

quality of their items, guaranteeing satisfaction. Vendors shouting to passer-byes, ‘The best linen from Kemp, and the finest silk of the seven desserts! Come and see! Come and see! Ladies

come and see the finest cookware and pottery! . Gentlemen come and see some of the finest swords ever made. Swords, shields, and daggers. Come and see! Come and see!’ This always

struck me as funny because, though men and women were equals in our tribe, the men did more of the cooking and there were more women warriors and hunters than there were men.

                                        I remember one year, I had to be at least ten or eleven, there was a new tent on the out skirts of the festival. I saw it out of the corner of my eye as I watched the

acrobats performing their show of amazing feats. I remember standing in the back attempting to imitate their movements, not very well granted, I was an awkward little girl, legs to long

for my short body.’ She laughed softy. ‘Anyway, there I was clumsily following the act when I felt someone watching me. I stopped and looked around to see a man standing in front of the

new tent, just staring at me. I stood there with a puzzled look on my face. Without a change of expression, he motioned me over. I slowly walked to where he stood, and with out a word he

went to the tent and held the flap open for me. Some how I knew he meant me no harm and so I entered upon his request.”

…..

                                       The moon had just come up when she pulled into the motel parking lot. She clicked off the recorder and gathered her thing. Upon entering the small dark office,

she greeted the old woman behind the counter.

                                                      " Hello, can I get a room with a king size bed?"

  
                                                     " How many with you dear. A Beau perhaps, mmm?"

  
                                                       " No madam, just me." She smiled and laughed softly. "I just like the extra room. With anything smaller I'd probable fall out in the middle of the night,

                                             with the way that I toss and turn."

 

                                                      " OK dear, I'll put you in number 13. There is a hot tub in it, I'm sure you won't mind." The old woman gave her the oddest, funny look, like she

                          thought that she was expecting company after all. DRhea signed the guess book as the woman got the key from the wall behind her. "Here you go dear, check out's at 12:00.

                       Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." And with an almost sadistically laugh, the old woman took the money that DRhea had left on the counter and went back to the book she was intently                                reading before she came in.

 

Survey says CREEPY

 

                                    A vision of some horror flickered threw her mind, like Psycho or some Tales from the crypt episode. She half expected Sam and Dean Winchester to burst through

the door and salt and burn the place. But she figured what were the odds of anything like that happening and quickly dismissed the thought. To long on the road this time, that

hot tub sounded like heaven and should help clear the dust.  She gathered her things and found the room. The door gave a low grunting creek as it slid open. The smell of must and old,

worn carpet rolled out of the room heavy and thick like the fog off of some mythical New England town. This room gave off an aura of an old troubled soul with no real place in time were it

belonged, much like herself. It was comforting to her, "Just like an old friend." She sighed and closed the door behind her. After a long bath, she stretched out across the bed and continued her dictation.

 

....

 

                                “Stepping threw the opening I was bombarded by the over powering smell of incense. When my eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight, I saw several men sitting

around the small fire that warmed the cool autumn air that whispered in from the venting hole in the tent. In the center there was an older man, most likely he was the leader because at

a gesture of his hand the men moved to make room for me to sit near the fire. The man seemed to be in his 40’s, which was impressive in those times, only kings, wise elders, leaders, or

great warriors live to reach that age in good health. Knowing this, I silently walked to the fire and sat near him. A moment passed with no sound, as was the custom among many

nomadic tribes, such as my tribe had been for countless generations. At that age, I didn’t know the life of a nomad, not

long before I was born, my tribe settled in the valley we now called home.” She stopped briefly.

  
                                                    “Come to think of it, maybe the festival was to honor our arrival in said valley. The elders said it was destiny that brought us there, and that our people had

searched for this land of fate, others said it was just good fortune that would one day run out. Turns out they were both right...

                                                    It was I who broke the silence, a bold move for one so young.  
                     

                                                  ‘You are of a warrior clan are you not.’ He almost jumped at the sound of my voice. ‘Do I offend?’ I was afraid that I had because 

                                        it is custom to many to kill those who offend. He looked at me with a half-amazed look on his face.

 

                                                  ‘Do not worry my dear, I am not offended. I was startled because I was told your people had become docile. That the farmer’s life had tamed you.’

                         I laughed at this, I could not help it.

  
                                               ‘We are any thing but tame.’ I managed to say. ‘Just because we farm crops does not mean we do not hunt.’ He looked slightly bewildered.

                                          ‘Many have said that your men do house work and cook. Is this not a sign that your tribe is weakening?' I smiled slyly.

                                           ‘It is true that the men do most of the cooking and of their own free will.’ The group nodded and stated to mumble among themselves, saying

                          things like ‘they have lost their ways’, or ‘they have forgotten their true selves’. I just smiled and continued. ‘But this has always been so say the elders.’ A hush came over

                       them in disbelief. ‘Our people have always shared duties, weather it be cooking or in battle.’ The elder man seemed to get very agitated at this.  
                                     

                                           ‘Women have no place in battle. Men hunt, women cook and have children. That is the way it has always been.’ As young as I was, I did not realize why he was so upset. If I had known I would not have keep my mouth shut . . . maybe.

                                   ‘But not us, our tribe as existed as such for countless generations!’ He grew very angry.

                                   ‘You lie GIRL! The great Naferi, whose name strikes fear into the hearts of men, would never have women in battle!’ I stood in defense of my tribe.

                                ‘The Naferi have always shared in the rights of battle. What do you think Naferi means? It’s means the tribe of warriors!’

 

                                ‘Guards take this willful Imp away!’ In an instance two men reached for me. I remember one of them trying to grab me from behind, with all the instincts of my training,

I stepped into him as he walking closer and half tripped him and flung him over my shoulder. He fell into the fire, sending glowing embers and ash flying through out the tent. The other I

remember punching him were it counts and then knocking him over the head with my fists as he doubled over in pain. After that I simply ran from the tent, fearing of a pursuit.

As I blindly ran threw the fair grounds, I could hear some of the people running after me. Their footsteps seemed to be getting closer. My heart was beating in my ears like a war drum

beats before a battle. As I ran, I would turn slightly to knock down things into their pass, hoping that it would slow their pace. I could hear them screaming out ‘Stop her! Stop that girl!’ as I ran.

We had reached about the middle of the festival before they had caught up to me, by that time we had drawn quite a crowd. I came to a screeching halt because there was a wall of

people blocking my way. I quickly started spinning around, looking for a way out. Seeing none, panic gripped my heart. The men stopped just feats away from me, with their weapons

drawn. As I stood there, my lungs burning, I quickly glanced around. Near by stood a weapon’s dealer table full of assorted armory, which, undisclosed to me, was a member of the mysterious

tribe. In an instance, I reached for the table. For some reason I did not take one of the swords that were laying out, instead I picked up one that was on the ground slightly covered by a fine black, almost velvet, cloth.  
                                As I turned, I remember seeing the sun glinting off of the highly polished metal. The sword looked like a flash of lighting coming to the aid of a mere mortal girl. As in my parents training,

I defended against their attack as a true though a somewhat smaller warrior. After the first few attacks, the elder had caught up. He saw the sword that I was wielding and spoke out to stop the men, in some

language that I did not understand.  
                                             

                                           ‘Nahi po-to-ron-ni-a!’ Instantly the slightly bloody men backed away, leaving me standing they’re still holding the sword at ready. The man approached

                warily and stopped in front of me, placing his hands on his hips. ‘You know, you are holding my sword.’ I glanced the sword. ‘I had it placed there for a reason. But that reason

seems void now that it is exposed. Tell me why did you grab that one and not one of the others?’ He asked me almost gloating. Thinking back now, it was like the mythical David standing in front

of Goliath. I could hardly bring my self to speak.

                                             ‘I...I..uh, I don’t know.’ His stone like face broke into a huge smile as he started roaring with laughter.

                                                       ‘Come girl let us be friends.’ He motioned me along as he turned. I just stood staring at him. He seemed a bit perturbed. ‘Well come on now.

                                  You have proven that you were right.’ He offered his hand in friendship. Reluctantly I lowered the sword that was nearly half as tall as I was. As we started back to the tent,

                my parents came running forward, after hearing that I was in trouble.

 

                                                           ‘What goes on here.’ My father’s voice bellowed. He looked down and saw the sword. The clan leader’s eyes widened, he knew that their plans

had been discovered. Enough of their tribe’s warriors were hidden around the fair to mount an attack on the village, and father realized this. He summoned several guards to his side

and approached the man. He stopped next to me, placing his hand warmly on my shoulder. I looked up and handed him the sword; he smiled down at me. My father began to speak to him,

averting a discussion of the freshly uncovered plot.  
                     

                                             ‘Sir, what are your intentions towards my daughter?’ At that moment the tribal leader realized that I was not just some girl, but the heir to the leader of our tribe. He turned slightly  pale as he began to speak.

             

                                           ‘We were having a discussion that, I am afraid, got out of hand. I would like to apologies to the young lady and I ask your forgiveness.’ He offered his hand in friendship, which

surprised many. It was a noble act to admit that one was wrong. Normally an incident like this would have caused a war, it still might if his hand was rejected.

“ In the old days of my people, I would have had you disemboweled and your entrails would have decorated the entrance to my house.’ Father spoke loudly and proudly. ‘But my tribe has

learned forgiveness and peace.’ He stepped closer and took his hand. ‘You and your people are welcome in my house.’

 

                                                                   “Come to find out the tribe was called, roughly translated, The Descendants of the Great warrior Orion, the Descendants for short. Their leader,

the man whom I encountered, Drinla-na-Aera, or Drinla for short. They stayed with us through the winter. Dirndl and my father talked night after night endlessly. What they discussed I was not

privy to. But in the end they created a mutual protection pact and peace treaty. In the months that followed, the descendants became an intricate part of our daily lives. As we taught them our

ways and skills they taught us their unique combat style. I found myself enthralled with the grace and skill of it. As the days grew shorter and the nights grew longer, I was training longer and

harder than most of the adults. Greatly encouraged by father and with great interest of Drinla. As I progressed, my training evolved. At first I was not allowed to train with any weapons, it was

more like school than training. I studied history, poetry, mathematics, and geometry, even the healing properties of certain plants.

                                                          When I asked, “Why do I have to learn these things? I do not need to know how to rhyme to swing a sword.”  
                     

                                                     My teacher, master Zel, simply smiled and said, “Tell me, how does a bird fly before he knows what wings are?”  
                     A few days pasted as I pondered my response. As we walked through my family’s private gardens, I was still perplexed at his strange question but I was certain I had once

found a flaw in my teacher’s wisdom.  
                             

                                                      “Master Zel, about what you said the other day, a bird can’t fly till it grows and its feathers are fully developed. So your question is a bit

off because obviously the bird is aware of its wings long before it can fly.”

 

                                              “And what creates his flight? His wings or his thought of flight?”

  
                                            “Well he would have to have the thought first or there would be no purpose for flying.”

  
                                               “ And a warrior without purpose is a dull blade.” The aging master gave me a weird little smile and leaned down to the

side towards me, and out of the corner of his mouth said “You do not wielded sword with the hand but with the mind, “ he raised one finger and tapped the side of my head.

                                               “And one must learn how to think before one can act." My shoulders sank as I realized I did not out think my teacher, but instead I did exactly

                  as he wanted me too. As we walked past a several flowering bushes he said with a little joyful smirk in his voice, “Now you see, we want you to first master the weapons that you were born with                          before we let you near tangible ones.”

                                             “Weapons? What weapons are thoughts?”

  
                                             He paused, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stood perfectly still. “What do you hear?”

  
                                         "I hear nothing Master. It is very quiet here.”  
 

                                          “Are you sure? It seems very noisy here to me.”

  
                                           “Master? We are the only things making noise here.”

  
                                    “The only things?” he said as he raised one eyebrow and peered out of one eye inquisitively at me. “Well we shall have to do something about that hearing of yours.”

He closed his eyes and relaxed his face. “Perhaps your mind is to loud for you to hear. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and relax. Let all thought pass from you.” I did as he instructed I close

my eyes and tried to relax. It didn’t really seem to be working, but I tried anyway.

  
                                    “Slow your breath and stretch your awareness outward. Concentrate on one sense at a time. Feel the sun’s warmth on your skin. How the smell from the flowers

tickles your nose. Hear the wind in the trees. Now slow your breathing down. This will also slow your heartbeat. Hear the sound of it, now exclude it from what you hear around you.” After

what seemed like minutes. “Now tell me what you hear.”

                                         “I..” My voice cracked as if I had not drunk anything in hours. “ I hear the crickets in the bushes that are rubbing against the south wall.” I started smiling.

                          “ I hear the butterflies in the Luanda bush in the center near the fountain. I hear the fish feeding on the bugs that fell into the water.” As I opened my eyes, the bright smile

on my face started to fade. “And I hear the birds flying over ….head.” I looked around and realized that Master Zel was not standing where he once was. Instead he had moved to a low

stone bench some feet away, and the sun was fast approaching the horizon. I looked at him, astonished but he simply looked pleased.

                                        “Good, but you failed to hear me move from your side. Do not despair though, it was good for a first time. Many can not achieve in years of training that you have

done in just one attempt. You show great promise and will improve.” As he spoke he rose and walked down the path to several low bushes on the edge of the path. “Next time be sure to

include any changes in your environment.” Suddenly he reached down and pulled up a wiggling mass.

                                        “Hey cut it out! Put me down! I’ll tell father on you!” there hanging in mid-air by the scruff of his neck was my little brother, kicking and struggling for all it was worth.

                                      “Xen!! What are you doing here?!” I sprang forward and punched him in the ribs.

  
                                      “Now Alya,” Master Zel said as he held me back with his right hand and set Xenon down on the path to his left. “I can see that our next lesson will

                         include patience, forgiveness, and anger management. But for now we are well past due for a break, and it is nearly time for the evening meal. Come we must

                        replenish ourselves.” With that he turned and escorted us out of the gardens still playing referee between me and my brother.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       Those dying generations at their song, the salmon falls the mackerel

Crowded seas, fish, flesh or food, command all summer long.

Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.  Caught in that sensual

music all neglect moments of un-ageing intellect.

    Aged man is but a paltry thing, a tattered coat upon a stick. Unless

soul clap it’s hands and sing, and louder sing for every thing tattered in

its mortal dress . . .

  
O’ sages studying in god’s holy fire as in the gold mosaics of a

wall come from the holy fire, preen in a gyre, and be the singing- master

of my soul. Consume my heart airy: sick with desire and fastened to a

dying animal it knows not what it is: and gather me into the artifices of

eternity . . . of what is past, or passing, or to come.

 

 

 

 

**2**

 

 

 

                                                         “In my sixteenth year came a very special event, the trial for the burning flower. As with the rest of my classmates, I was unaware of

what it was about or even entailed, through out all our years of training there was no mention of this event. When asked, my master would only respond, ‘you will see.’ It

was highly frustrating, especially for a group of nosy teenagers. Finally he broke down, but still would only tell us the part of the ceremony that was not in public view.

  
He explained that there were three steps in preparation for the trial, this was done in a secluded area, where a crystalline lake fed by the same fresh water spring that the

tree of the burning flower. Each seeker had three acolyte attendants that prepared them for the trial.

  
                                    1st pure olive oil from the first fruit of an olive tree for purification and symbolizing new beings and rebirth are applied to the seekers of the path’s skin.

  
                                    2nd Oil from an adult olive tree, flower petals from first bloom of the trail year, Fresh fruit juice from the burning flower tree, the first fallen leaves of fall,

                           dried and turned to powder are mixed with melted new snow collected during a winter solstice full moon. Each having it’s own significant meaning. The oil and

                           flower pedals representing the eternal spring of life. The fresh fruit juice for the prime of life. Fallen leaves for the fall of life. And the melted snow for end of life

                           and the promise of rebirth. As each one was adorned, the three acolytes recite the words of passage.

                                            “ As you have aged from spring to summer may spring always be in your heart. As you enter summer with this the burning flower 

                                      may summer never leave you. As you walk the path of the burning flower may it protect you from never seeing the fall of life and may

                                      it keep winter from your flesh.

  
                                   3rd they are lead to the pure water spring that feeds the burning flower tree. And as it looms above them, standing there an ancient eternal

                                         giver of life, the seeker is lead down into the warm water and bathed.

  
                                                    “As these waters wash away the sacraments so does it wash away your former life.”

 

 

                                  Upon emerging they stand in front of the wading pool, dries by virgin cloth made only for this purpose. They are clothed in white flowing garments. Then

       a red robe made from the finest fabric is draped across their shoulders. The fabric seemed to shimmer and shine in the light. Flowing around the edges were embroidered vines

       curling and twisting around each other as they spontaneously sprouted blazing burning flower blooms. The top closed of by a roman style clasp, two round gold circles connected

       by a short gold chain. Three priest stand waiting. Then one by one approach with sacred bowels filled with oil.

  
                                                                  In the first bowel oil from the fruit of a dying olive tree,

  
                                                                     “Your life will end this night.”

  
                                                                 In the second the oil from the first fruit if an olive tree,

  
                                                                     “But through the trail of the burning tree yea you may yet live.”

  
                                                                In the last the juice of the fruit from the burning flower tree,

  
                                                                    “May the fates bless you and smile upon you as they decide your fate.” Then the seekers are veiled with fine

                                                                lace and crowned with a laurel formed from the branches of the burning tree with a few blossoms mixed in among them.  
         

 

                       Later that night the open-air temple fills with every degree of training, acolytes priests priestesses, and even first year students. Chants of ancient origin

and prayers filled air above the moon lit temple. As dawn approaches the seekers with their acolyte attendants enter the temple. Along the path, men and women stood

as honor guards, holding aloft alternating long branches of olive trees and swords, creating an archway symbolizing the path they have chosen, one of peace and of war.

As they proceeded, the path lead them up to a large plateau carved at the base the burning tree. At the back wall, the roots flowing in and out of the earthen wall almost

completely formed the altar. At which my master stood and at that moment I realized that in all my years with the descendants, I have never seen him age. And in fact that

it seemed like he had actually grown younger. There was no longer any gray in his hair and even through the torches and candle light I could tell that his skin had a youthful

glow about it, Like a man in his late thirties.

  
                         As it fell silent, one by one the seekers stepped onto the Plato and lit a separate candle along the wall. In the dead silence the twelve seekers too their positions,

two in front, four in the middle and six in the last. Kneeling in front of long cushions with a blazing flower with pedals that looked like flames embroidered on them. They sat in

perfect silence, waiting. That is when my master spoke.

  
                                          “ A hundred by a thousand seasons ago, the people of the stars came to this place and saw that it was good and peaceful. They saw men grow, helped

 them mature as a race, watched and guided them threw out years past. But man began thinking them as gods. A great rift formed, the evil would be gods the Hanla and the benevolent

guardians the Anla. War come and shattered the peace. The Hanla were driven away but vowed to return and reclaim their place as gods. And that is why we prepare and dedicate

our selves to the path. Although the Anla have left this place to chase the Hanla into the stars, their children both with Anla and human parents stayed behind to train their children

and their children’s children, in the way of the path. The path is to create a lasting army of guardians should the Hanla return. And now on this most holy of nights we bring forth

those who dare take the challenge of the burring flower trail. Though they my die they know it is for the greater good.” He turned to the seekers.

  
                                          “Do you seek the path!” His voice reverberated of the walls.

  
                                          “I do!” All of them replied in unison with as much force as him.

  
                                          “Threw this trial you will die. But you may yet live. Are you willing to risk your life ending this night?!”

  
                                         “I am!”

  
                                        “ The path of the burning flower means you are the guardians of this world. You must protect it from the Hanla, as well as it’s self, if necessary.

                     Always keeping the secret of Orin as his descendants. Never revealing to mortals the truth. Will you take that solemn oath to your heart?”

  
                                       “I vow with my life’s blood!”

  
                                    With that priestesses of the temple came forward bringing golden bowels to the alter, the high priest turned picking up a large chalice filling them

 with the ruby red burring flower wine. It is known that the juice if the burning flower fruit is toxic if ingested. I found it curious that they would make a wine from it. In turn

he filled each small bowl with the ruby liquor as the past him and took their positions at each side of each row.

  
                                        “ With this you dedicate your life to the path. How do you enter and how do you pledge?”

  
                                       “ With full heart and with my life’s blood.” Taking a knife they sliced the palm of their hand and let it drip into the bowls that the priestesses held.

Then each drank according to their station. The first row, the entire bowl. The second half, and the third drank a quarter of the mixture. They were seated in order of skill,

heritage and of which roll fate would decide for them, guard, high guard, or elite guard. Elite guards, if passed the trail, had the aging process completely stopped and would

never die from old age or disease. The high guards were not so limitless. They had the same benefits as the elite as never succumbing to disease and a very extended life span.

However, after several millennia the effect starts to reverse and they slowly start to age and one day can die from old age. With the guards they experience all of the same benefits

and disadvantages as the high guard but they are not as long lived. After only one thousand years they start to age slowly and after approximately fifteen hundred years they finally

succumb to the ravages of time. But this did not always have to be the end. If at such a time they return to the trail they, if they pasted, would return to the perfect health and age at

which they first partook of the burning flower wine. But this was a rare occurrence, to have some one return for the retrial or even to survive it. Thou the rewards were great; there

were not many takers. If one were to pass the trail the first time or through the retrial and became elite guard they would receive the heightened abilities that comes with it. Increased

stamina, strength, senses, and with mortal wounds that would end a guard, the elite as well as the high guards would regenerate and become whole again.

  
                                After a few moments of mediation the seekers seemed to go into convulsions and clasped, falling to the ground in an array of directions. Acolytes rushed forward

and gently laid them out on the perfumed cushions, as a beautiful ancient song rose from the chorus of guard. Above the music the high priest spoke.

  
                               “The seekers are dead! Yet they live!” the temple slowly emptied leaving the acolytes to tend to the seekers. I found my self slightly confused. In my many years 

of training they have told us very little of this right of passage. I thought ‘How can they live if they just died?’ My master came to our group of students and bid us follow.

                               “ Come, classes will start soon.” As we walked, I could not help but wonder about it.

  
                               " Master, how can everyone be so calm. And go about their business like nothing has happened? Twelve people just died in there!”

  
                                “Yes they are dead now but most if not all will rise again in three days hence. At that time we shall morn for those who do not.”

  
                                 “But . . . “

  
                                “But nothing. At this moment for all we know they all could survive. Why mourn someone who is not gone?” He gave me a little smile and 

     rubbed my shoulder. It seemed to comfort me.

  
                                “I see”

  
                                “No you do not. But soon you shall.”

  
                               “ Master, I have another question.”

  
                                “ Good, an inquisitive mind is a mind ready for knowledge.” The group chuckled.

  
                               “ I was wondering about what you said during the ceremony. They are all dead yet they live. How is that possible?”

  
                                “Very good question, that is actually part of our next lesson.” Some of the class groaned at this. “ Now, now, this is one of your easiest lessons.

You merely have to listen. Though I know for some of you that can be difficult. Now as you were witness too, the seekers ingested the juice from the burning tree

. Now I know that all of you were taught that it is poisonous. But when it is mixed and fermented into wine, it takes on very unusual properties. The drinker of such a

wine experiences vivid dreams, visions if you will, and convulsions as you have seen.

                            Once the wine enters the body, the flesh feels as though it is burning hence the name. And in fact it does burn your insides as it changes you.

The trail lasts three days and nights ending at the end of the summer solace full moon. During those three days, the seekers will pass from life to death and back again

numerous times. For those who survive, they will rise up and have become the guards of Orin. For those who do not, we will morn and bury them with the honors befitting

their station.”  
                           He moved on ahead of the group and led us to the ancient hall of Orin. It was rumored that the body of Orin himself was buried beneath its floor.

Of course it was also said that he was ten foot tall and could snap three hundred-year-old trees in half with his bare hands. But I doubt that is any more true than

him being buried under the hall.  As we reached the great doors, we all took a deep breath as he swung the doors open. None of us had ever been inside. It was forbidden except for those deemed ready.

                         Suddenly he spun around and said in a booming voice.

  
                                   “ Some people call this the hall of Orin, but I call it the hall of truth! Come we have much to discuss.” He sung back around and entered the hall. Naturally

we hesitated. “Come on! Come on! The earth wouldn’t open up and swallow you whole!” His voice echoed back to us as he walked further down the hallway. As we entered he

started to tell us the epic of the beginning of the descendants of Orin. As we walked down the hall the murals on the walls depicted the story as he spoke.

  
                                   “ In the beginning . . .A hundred by a hundred life times ago the people of the stars came to this place, and saw that it was good and peaceful. They watched

and guided people as they saw humans start to blossom as a new fledgling race. As the years past, humans began to think them as gods, and some began to believe it. A great rift

began to form between the people of the stars, forming the evil gods the Hanla and the benevolent guardians the Anla. The Hanla grew more and more war like. Declaring that they

were gods, that they created this world, and that they personally breathed life into humans.

  
                                     The Anla argued with they saying ‘This is not our path, we ourselves were born and though long lived can also die. We are not gods!’ But their words fell upon

deaf ears. The Hanla began demanding sacrifices to appease them. People, fearful of their wrath obeyed for a time. But as the Hanla’s blood lust grew from animal sacrifice to demanding

human blood the people resisted.

                                     Saying ‘ why would gods want our blood? Do they want their worshipers diminished? What sort of god that gives life would want it back?’

  
This angered the Hanla. They thought it was their unquestionable right to receive this. In retribution they destroyed cities, towns, and villages, any place were human

sacrifice was not made. The people rose up in revolt and destroyed the temples, proclaiming the Hanla demons. They called out to the universe ‘ Send us a savior!

Protect us from this evil!’ The Hanla proclaimed with this out rage that human life was now forfeit.

  
                                        ‘ We cave you life, now we shall take it!’

  
                            The Anla could not stand this anymore. As the Hanla rained terror upon the world of man, a great horn sounded that shook everything, every mountain, hill and

valley. It shook the trees, the rivers, the people, and it shook the Hanla. Down from the mountains charged the Anla, bringing holy war to the evil ones. The two sides clashed, cutting

one another down with bursts of lighting. It seemed that they would bring each other to extinction, and the world with them. When out of the wake of genocide rose a great leader

of man. Once being a high priest of the Hanla, he now fueled the rebellion. He gathered his warriors; both priest and man, and raged into battle along side of the Anla. The Hanla were

forced back. With defeat close at hand, the Hanla withdrew. But before they left this world to return to the stars, which they came from, they swore they would return and claim vengeance.”

 

                            We came to the front of the great hall and gathered in a semi-circle before him. Across the wall a giant mosaic of Orin adorned the wall. It was an idealized version

of him, with stars for a belt and for a clasp for his cloak over his left shoulder. The red cloak flowing down the right side of his body glistened with gold and silver dust that had been

brushed on. I looked closer and realized something was wrong with the tile work as well as the image it’s self.

  
                                          “Master Zel, “ I interrupted as I stepped closer. “ there is something wrong with this. Orin was said to be right handed and yet his cloak is covering his right

                            arm and, “ I stepped up behind the altar in front of the wall much to master Zeltar’s surprise.

  
                                            “NO child do not go back there!” he ran to catch me. He grabbed me and quickly got me away. Master Zel whipped me around and held me tightly by the

                    arms as his looked sternly into my eyes. “ That place is not for you! Not yet! That is only for the heir of Orin to see. You must promise me that you will not attempt that again.”

                    I shook my head slightly. “Promise me!” he shook me slightly.

  
                                              “Yes I promise!” tears welled up in my eyes as I pulled away and ran from the hall. I had no ideal what had just happened but it had upset him greatly and

                    me as well. It would not be for a much longer time that I would realize why he was so upset and why he wanted to make sure that I, or anybody else would reveal what was behind the wall.

 

…..

 

                                            Suddenly DRhea jumped up from the up from the bed. Something was wrong, she could feel it. She ran to the window. Standing there in only her underwear

and a tank top, she peered out the window. She could see into the office across the parking lot. The little old woman was arguing with three large men in dark leather. One was trying to grab

the registry book. The old woman reached over and pulled it back. Still arguing with each other as they struggled for the book. DRhea focussed in on the short one in the back. She could see

something on his neck just below his chin length hair. With her heightened eyesight she could make out the tattoo.

  
                                       “ Oh great the three stooges are back!” she knew the old woman couldn’t hold out forever and then they would be coming for her. Quickly she gathered

                                  her things and threw on her pants. “How the hell did they find me? This can’t happen, net yet!” as she zipped her pants she reached across the bed to grab the recorder.

A gunshot rang out in the night. She froze for a millisecond, closing her eyes.

                                       “No not her.”

  
                                   She grabbed the recorder and shoved it into her back pocket. She threw her naked feet into her shoes as she hobbled to the bathroom window. She threw it open

and dropped her bag out side, crawling out behind it. As she jumped to the ground the screen came crashing down.

                                       “ SHIT!”

  
                            Praying that they didn’t hear her clumsy escape, she grabbed her bag and ran the length of the building, stopping at the edge closest to her car. Her breath threatened

to rattle her chest, as she slowly peaked around the corner and looked across the parking lot to the office. The three goons were standing in a circle outside as the short one, Moe for lack of

a better name, flipping threw the registry.

  
                                         “Bastards!” she growled. “You’ll get yours, that’s for sure. One way or another.” He pointed to a name then ripped the page form the book, and they marched across

the parking lot towards her room. She started calculating. “Now gotta time this right. Too soon they’ll see me and I won’t have enough time to get to the car. If I wait to long, they’ll

either figure out I’m not in there and come back out just in time to see me running like a fool to my car. Either way it will result in a fight and that can’t happen, not yet.” She took her

keys out, clenching them between her teeth by the miller light key chain. The key chain that she had gotten from a party at Marti Gras a few weeks prior. A party where, ironically, the

three stooges had found her as well.

                                          “Persistent little buggers.” DRhea slung the bag over her shoulders and across her back as she prepared to run. As they prepared to kick in the door, she tore

ass for the parking lot, keeping low and her head turned towards the room. As she darted out from behind the building, she realized that there was only two by the room’s door.

                                            “Shit!!” One was by her car, RELIVING himself! She dove behind a near by dumpster at the edge of the parking lot, back and bag pressed up against it.

                                              “FUCK, fuck, fuck, now what? Man if he ruins my paint job, I swear I’ll shove that Cuban knock off he’s smoking up his ass still lit!” Just then the old woman

                                           came running out of the office.

  
                                              “You horrible boys! I’m going to make you pay for shooting up my office!” Moe spun around and yelled.

  
                                              “ Shut that old bag up before she tips her off!”

  
                                             “Ha, Ha, too late mother fucker!” DRhea chuckled to herself. The old woman must have seen her because as Curly zipped up and ran after her she

ran in the opposite direction so he wouldn’t see her hiding place. Just then the other two put on gas masks and kicked down the door, tossing in canisters of sleeping gas, before

the entered with guns drawn. As they disappeared threw the doorway, DRhea made a mad dash for her car. She slid up to the passenger side, popped the lock and crawled inside. She

threw her bag over the seat into the back as she let the engine roar. She slammed it into reverse and as the tires squealed as the car spun around. They came running out just in

time to see her taillights as they whipped out of the parking lot. Larry, cursing, ripped of his mask throwing it to the ground.

                                          “How the hell does she always know?!” he stomped on the mask in frustration. Moe punched him in the arm.

  
                                          “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled, muffled threw the mask. “The gas is still . . .” Larry’s eyes got wide and rolled back into his head as he collapsed

making pleasing thud and he hit the pavement. “ . . . coming out. You moron.” He shook his head just as Curly came trotting back.

  
                                           “ The old witch got away!” He said, panting from running and to many cigars. “ She’s quick for an old goat.” He walked right up to where Moe and

                                        formally Larry were standing. “ Did you get her? Uh, what happened to him?”

  
                                       “ No, some how she knew we were here and got away.” He said slightly muffled threw the mask. Gray smoke still rolling out of the room behind him.

“ As for him, well . . .” He shrugged as Curly slumped to the ground.  “Man why do I have to always get the idiots!” he sighed as he walked out of rang of the smoke, dialing a cell phone.

When he reached a safe distance he removed his mask and hit send. “Yeah, it’s me. No she slipped out the back as we were going in the front. Yeah they’re here. No they can’t come to

the phone, they seem to be falling all over themselves with disappointment. Don’t worry we’ll get her next time. Yes I know, with out a scratch if possible. Yes sir, of course, the transmitter

is working perfectly.” He looked down at a hand held GPS device. “ She can run but she can’t hide.” With that he snapped the flip phone shut and went to the car. He pulled around and

loaded the two sleeping beauties in before disappearing off down the road. Moments after their departure, several cops cars squealed their way into the parking lot with lights and sirens

blazing.

 

 

 

 

                                  As she speed off, she slowly gathered her composure the further down the road she got. She thought of the old woman. How she knew just what to do.  
                             “ Spry old goat wasn’t she?” She thought of how long that woman has lived, probably a rough seventy some odd years, a mere drop in the bucket compared to DRhea.

But how full her life must be. Husband, children, grandchildren even, all in just seventy years. How quickly it passed to those who do not age. Suddenly she felt incredibly old and so alone.

Her thoughts were as desolate as the night she dove into. With only the roar of her engine to keep her company. After a time she took a deep breath and tried to shake off the gloom. She

reached over and clicked on the radio. One of those depressing songs came floating out of the speakers.

  
                               “Oh no you don’t!” She exclaimed as she reached to change the station. She caught sight of the recorder that had fallen into the passenger seat and was still recording.

  
                               “Well I would explain what just happened but I haven’t the slightest ideal what they want with me. So let’s just say that is one things that might happen to me.” She

glanced down at the radio as a song by kid rock, only god knows why, came on. “ Fine, I guess it’s the theme of the day.”

  
                         ‘ I’ve been sitting here trying to find myself, need to rewind myself . . .’

  
                          “You know that sounds pretty good. Put myself in rewind. Go see old friends. Maybe I can figure out which one of my past enemies the dream team is working for and

what they want from me. Now time to look up my good old friend in the council.” A smile, like the Mona Lisa, crept across her face. “Just think of how, that once young man whose life I saved,

will react to seeing me forty years later not aged a day.” She chuckled and her mood brightened. The thought of seeing her old friends always did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They say there is no rest for the wicked  
But there’s the eternal question  
Am I truly wicked  
Ah yes, me and my ways  
My wicked ways  
To know songs  
And sing them  
With a sad or joyous heart  
To know people  
And love them  
For all their faults  
To pour drinks  
And toast the meaning of friends  
May they always be true  
To have a voice  
And raise it in celebration of life  
In good time and bad  
Ah yes, me and my ways  
My wicked, wicked ways

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

 

 

 

 

                                                  As rosy, golden hues started to leave the majestic walls of the Grand Canyon, DRhea stood against her car at a tourist sight seeing spot. She stood taking in

the colors as the setting sun left them, making them look like the ruins of an ancient, long for gotten city. She clicked on the recorder.

  
                                   “After the discovery of this new land, the new settlers didn’t have the reverence for this great chasm that the native population did. They saw this place as holy as

the gods and spirits the worshiped. The settlers only saw gold and opportunity. Me, the first time I saw it, I saw an old soul like me. Long history, so many stories, tragedies, sorrows and

joys. I still come here now and again. It reminds me that there are still some things left in this world that are older than me, and that has been threw more than me, sort of.” She turned

around and spread a map across the hood, placing the recorder on one side to keep it down.

  
                                  “OK, now I am here and Johnny boy is up here. It will be one heck of a drive but come days hence he’ll get one hell of a surprise.” She folded the map and grabbed

the recorder, clicking it off and resigned to the car. As she backed up, she rolled down the windows and left down the road with a smile in her heart. After she had been gone but moments,

a black car pulled up where her car had once rested. It paused a moment before rolling down the embankment and down the road following the path DRhea had taken without a sound.

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

                               As DRhea drove towards the city limits, the Vegas neon glow shined like a huge welcome sign. Glittering against the golden hues of twilight, greeting her like a

long lost friend. She reached over and pulled the recorder close to her. Placing the earpiece on, she pressed record.

  
                               “Ah Vegas, what a town! I remember when it was just a dusty speck, not even a blip on the map yet. I was traveling with not so nice of a crowd in those days. Not as

bad as I use to, of course, but it was my way of being a little bad without going the route that I did so many years ago . . . well I haven’t told you about that yet. But anyway, my mob ‘buddies’

and I were traveling to LA when we broke down in this little town called Las Vegas. With parts and service of any kind miles away, we had some time on our hands.

  
                               ‘ Hey Guedo! How about rustling up some entertainment for me and my gal.” DRhea walked past him, she wore a gray suit with her white shirt un-tucked, two buttons undone,

and a light gray tie hanging loosely around her neck. The gray felt Stetson pulled down over her long flaxen hair, low enough to slightly cover her eyes.

  
                                “ I ain’t your gal, bub.” She pushed her way to a table half way from the door and sat with her back half against the wall, but still facing the door. From this position,

not only could she see the door and window, but she could also scan the entire bar, including the back door.

  
                                 “Now come on love,” he said as he walked to the bar and took a stool. “ You know that if you’re with me the world can be your oyster. I could give you so much if you

would just soften to me and show me some, appreciation.” She flipped the rim of her Stetson up.

  
                                “ My fee as your bodyguard is enough, and I hate oysters.”

  
                                 “Come on darling, you don’t actually believe that I’m in danger in this armpit of a town, do you?” he chuckled as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bartender

and poured himself a double. “ I mean how would anybody even know we were here? Our own people don’t even know where we’re at!” she raised her head and glared slightly at him. How

she hated it when he called her darling, babe, or even doll.

  
                                 “ That’s my point exactly. Who knew we were coming out here, down this road where conveniently we break down, miles from any repair shops. So we would have to

bed down in unfamiliar territory, where it is possible to have scoped out all the surrounding towns and paid off the right people to inform them when we arrived so they could spring their

trap.’ She paused, waiting till he started to take a drink. “ Heck they could just have poisoned every bottle of whiskey in Nevada.” Whiskey came flying from his nose and after a coughing fit,

he calmed himself down.

  
                                   “You know you must be the most paranoid person in the world. Why can’t you just relax?”

  
                                   “You don’t pay me to relax.’

  
                                    “ I know he doesn’t, but what about this whole situation makes you believe that it could possibly happen?” She coldly looked at Guedo. He was such an

idiot that constantly worked on her nerves.

  
                                    “ Because it’s something I would do.” Then she continued to scan the area, just in case. He took a hard swallow and wiped the beading sweat from his for head. 

  
                                    “ Well I’m sure glad you’re on our side.” Guedo said as he walked up behind the boss at the bar. As she looked out the front window, a sneer crept across her face.

She turned her head slightly and looked out of the corner of her eye. 

  
                                    “ Who said that I was?” The boss turned, quickly changing the subject.

  
                                   “Barkeep! What do you have to do to get a cold drink around here?”

  
                                  “Yeeesss sir. Coming right up.” The nervous mild man said as he carried a tray filled with ice cold drinks and shots jingling across the room to the table that he

had indicated. She looked over at the clumsy barkeep, he seemed so jittery, like he was about to fall apart at the seams. It was obvious that he had never been around people from New York

before. Let alone those who obviously were from the mob. She caught his arm as he grabbed for a glass that had tipped over when he sat the tray down.

  
                                   “Relax, we’re just here for some libations and to get out of the sun.” He returned her smile, wearily, but it seemed to steady his hands. Suddenly the bar doors

came swinging open as someone came running in. She jumped up grabbing the two guns from their holsters under her arms as the barkeep hit the floor along with the boss, crawling under

near by tables. As she came to bare on the intruder the young man slide to a dead stop, eyes wide, looking like he would wet himself.

  
                                     “ I . . . I . . . I . . . the stuff, I brought the stuff.’ He said shaking as he tried to show her the books he had brought. DRhea held one hand up, pointing the gun towards the ceiling.

                                    “Relax, it’s all right.” She replaced the guns and turned to see both the barkeep and the boss grappling the stand of the tables like frightened schoolgirls. A half

chuckle escaped from her lips. “You can come out now. It’s just the kid I talked to earlier.” The boss recovered the condescending tone in his voice and stood straightening his suit.

  
                                      “ And what kid would that be?”

  
                                            “When we got into town, this kid,” she motioned for him to come forward, which he did with pride. “offered his services while we were marooned here.

And I see that he has proven useful.” She sat as the kid placed the books in front of her like a treasure in front of a queen.

  
                                      “That isn’t everything, but that’s all I could carry at one time.”

  
                                     “ And what a load it is.’ She smiled at him. Happily he nearly saluted as he jumped towards the door. “ I’ll go get the rest.”

  
                                      "Woe! Slow down there hop along, while I’m going threw these, go and try to organize the rest by topic, particularly pertaining to liquor laws, gambling,

and any side venture that might be worth wild. Try to make them as recent as possible and ah,” she flipped him a silver coin, “take your time, I’ll be here for awhile.” He looked at the

coin with wide eyes.  
                                        “Hey thanks lady! As always my service is guaranteed. Just ask!” he smiled and with a wink and a hopped out the door and down the road. She sat back and opened

the first dusty tome,blowing the dirt from the cover.

                                      “ Hey barkeep! Bring me some paper and something to write with.” He jumped up and ran to the back room.

 

                                      “ What in the hell was that all about?” he seemed flustered and baffled at the same time. She looked up at him, trying not to laugh.

                                     “ Well as we have been travelling through Nevada I have been noticing certain things. I wanted to check the books on state and local laws before I said anything.”  
                         

                                     “ Like what? What could be so interesting in this dust bowl!” Guido sneered.

                                     “ Well,” she puffed. Guido was not exactly on her top ten favorite’s list, nor was he on any top ten-list intelligence. “ All the way threw this dustbowl I’ve been noticing

certain things,’ She said as she thumbed threw the dusty novels. “ Like gambling, alcohol sales in the open,” she stressed while reaching for her empty glass and tapping it on the table as the

barkeep ran forward with paper as well as an ink well and pen. He quickly snatched up the glass and, leaving the items behind, and ran back to refill it.

  
                                    “Don’t forget ice.” She called to him making him jump and spill slightly. He quickly plunked several chunks from the icebox into the glass and placed it onto the table

beside her. She reached up and grabbed his hand. Looking up she smiled into his peaked face and spoke softly to him. “Do not be afraid of us. We will not harm you. In fact we very may well

make you very rich.” He smiled as she released his hand and patted it. He happily wiped the table and went back behind the bar with the five-dollar bill that she slipped into the palm of his hand.

  
“Now as I was saying,” she took a deep drink from the glass and replaced it in front of the books. “ If it pans out, we’re looking at the biggest venture ever to come our way.’

  
                                     “ Like?” he demanded as he sat at the neighboring table that the barkeep had set up with libations and appetizers.

  
                                    “Like gambling halls, bars, night clubs, and the like completely legal, for the most part. And with business expenses a tax write off as well.” He started chuckling then

gave way to roaring laughter. After his two goons started roaring with him, he suddenly stopped, waving his hand to silence them.

  
                                    “ You know doll, I like how your mind works. But what would make people want to come to the middle of the desert, just for all that when they can get it from us down 

the block from their home.”

  
                “ Because we will make it into an oasis where it seems like a paradise. A paradise where all of their desires can be fulfilled. Where stars are sure to come, being this close to California,

to get away from their busy Hollywood lives for a carefree vacation. A place where Joe Schmoes from down the block can be king for a day, a week, or longer. Where the American dream of rags

to riches can actually be won with the toss of the dice. “ She pounded her hand against the table. “ That’s why they will come! For opportunity, for the stars, for the feeling that they are better,

that for how for how ever long the stay, they are the big boss, so to speak. And for the knowledge they can do this openly, freely in broad day light, without the police raiding the joint and

throwing them in jail.” She took a slow breath calming her self. This new project seemed to get her more excited than she had been in years. She felt more alive just with the prospect she was

researching.

  
                                    “ Sir, if you think about it this is just what people are searching for. The same feeling that drove a rag tag group of colonist to rebel and form their own country.

The feeling of freedom, and here it could be nearly un-abandoned freedom, as long as their money holds out, that is.” She smirked as she turned back to the dusty novels. The boss looked

awed as the thought rolled threw his head. Then his face slowly changed back into the greedy sneer that he usually had when he had a new fish on the hook.

  
                                    “ Yeah, yeah, now I see it.” Guido stood, raising his hands like an artsy director, forming a picture frame, and looking around. “ The lost dust bowl.” Guido’s chuckled

was meet with a swift backhand from the boss.

  
                                     “ You idiot! Weren’t you listening? Once we get this off the ground it will be the greatest endeavor and moneymaker that we have seen. You’ve got the go ahead doll!’

he turned to her and patted her shoulder and walked away. As she shook off the sick feeling of his tough, with hidden grimaces.

                                      “ Like I need your permission.” She mumbled.

  
                        Later that night, the kid had followed threw with his promise. After she was satisfied that there were no current threats in town, she sat down and spent hours going

threw volume after volume. In addition to her theory being true, with some creative bribing to the right officials, of course, she out lined the entire plan on paper. And unfortunately put

to memory the rest of the state’s laws. The down side of having such a photographic memory as to not let her forget. She pushed herself away from the table in her room and rubbed her

eyes and neck.

  
                                      “ Legal prostitution.” She scoffed as she stood and walked to the window, opening the curtains, her button down shirt and jacket long since discarded. She stood

gazing at the dusty town, trying to image what it would become. There was a knock at the door, but she didn’t jump. She already knew who it was, The barkeep from down stairs with a tray

for her. How clumsy he was, she could hear him from down the hall as he started to climb the stairs.  
‘ Come in keep, the door’s unlocked.” The door swung open and he came in with much of a clatter. She glanced back at him as he nervously placed the tray on the table. She smiled as she

looked out the window at the sleepy little town.

  
                                         “ Now I thought that we were past all that being afraid stuff. The sooner you come to realize this the better.” She paused in reflection. “ You know when we

start reforming this town, it will bring a lot of new business. This town will start to change and grow. That means new people, a lot of new people. This town will never be the same.’

  
                                         “ I, I know. I guess I’ll have to get use to change.” His voice shook as he spoke.

  
                                         “ Yeah, but don’t worry, the more things change the more they stay the same.”

  
                         Suddenly a shot rang out. Blood sprayed on the curtains that she had just opened. As the sound of glass shattering filled the room, searing pain shot threw her body,

as she fell backwards onto the floor, her blood soaking the shag carpeting. As she lay there looking up at the ceiling, coughing up blood, Guido, the boss and his other goons came into

view. Staring down at her, the boss smirked.

  
                                        “ Consider this your termination notice. And by the way, thanks for the ideal, doll. It’s going to be great, too bad you won’t be around to see it or . . . “ he chuckled,

“ profits from it. Now don’t worry about my safety, babe. My new man, Dillinger here,’ her eyes flickered towards the approaching man. He slowly holstered his gun as the boss patted his

shoulder. “ is taking your place as my body guard. As you can see he’s pretty good with that thing.”

                                         “Son of a BITCH!’ DRhea thought, her eyes glistened with anger and frustration at not being able to move, to do anything at all, and at the fact that she was

stupid enough to let it happen. How could she not see this coming. She let her guard down, got too comfortable. She trusted the bumbling barkeep. She forgot that most people would

turn Judas for their pieces of silver if given a chance. That was her mistake, but not one she would soon repeat. Soon she would repay the boss his silver twice fold. They turned to leave

as her breaths came ever slower. The boss turned and said.

  
                                       ‘You know doll,” God knows how she hate it when he called her that. “ You were right about something. The more things change the more things they

do stay the same. Maybe in your next life, lady luck will be more kind. See ya toots!” with that he turned and left with a little scoff and smiles on their face, leaving her to her death.

 

 

  
…

 

 

 

 

         She stood, with the door firmly locked, looking out her Vegas hotel window, gazing at the city lights she once had envisioned many years ago, as she spoke into her recorder. She sighed. 

  
                              “Yep, the more things change, the more they stay the same, believe me. The boss did learn one thing. When you betray someone and kill him or her, make

sure they’re not immortal with a knack for revenge. As for his ‘new boy’,” she laughed softly, “ I never did look quit as good as that in a red dress again.” Smiling she turned off the

recorder and made use of the room’s wall safe and spun the lock. She chuckled to her self. “ Hard to believe that people think a simple three-tumbler lock is going to keep thieves out.’

With that she turned, throwing her leather jacket over her shoulders, gathered her keys and before walking out the door, paused grabbing the lit cigarette from the ash tray. And with a flick, she was out the door heading for the casino.

                                                            “ Time for a little fun. After all running for your life and no play makes DRhea a very cranky girl!” she chuckled to her self.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                   Hours later, after playing roulette, craps, and other games, she settled at the black jack table and was doing quite well.

  
                                         ‘Hit me.” The ice in her glass clinked as she rose it to her lips. A wisp of smoke passed by her face.

   
                                         “ Are you sure? You’re sitting on 19 little lady.” The good looking Texan next to her spoke gently. She gave him a half smile as he tipped his large

Stetson hat towards her. His sleeve slide down slightly, revealing a tattoo on his wrist. Smiling back at her with a little too much familiarity. “ You ought to listen to an . . . old hand

at black jack like me. I’ve been around enough to know when to hold’em and if I were you, I’d cut ship and run. If you know what I mean.” He winked.

  
                                          “ Well,” she said as she placed the glass down. She stared at the end of her cigarette, slightly running her thumb along the side of a stack of hundred dollar chips.

                          “ You’re not me.’ She sat up straight, placing the cigarette between her lips as she moved all of her chips to the bet line. “All in, hit me!”

                                           “ Your gonna regret it.” He shook his head as the dealer reached for a card. He flipped the card out and across the table. It spun and landed across her ace and eight of spades.

  
                                            “Two of spades, 21” The dealer dealt for the house and after a few turns of the cards, “ 22 the house busts, player wins!”

  
                                          “ Now how the hell did you pull that one off?” he scratched his blonde hair under his hat in wonder.

  
                                         “ Years of practice, luck . . . “

                                         “ And a pair of very big balls.” A low slightly gravely voice came from behind and left of her. It was the type of voice that was strong, powerful, the type that

makes a woman’s heart beat faster, breath harder. The kind that people find intimidating, threatening with a hint of danger that effects both sexes. She looked up at him as he took

the spot next to her. He appeared in his thirties, dusty brown hair with a very well built physique.

  
                                         “ You playing?’ He looked up at her, his lips glistening from the drink he sat down, drawn up into a smirk.

  
Playing, oh the way he said it made her hesitate. She knew what he meant, but she couldn’t help but think of the hidden meaning.

  
                                       “ Though I’m sure you’re pretty good . . . with games,” she glanced back at the dealer, “ cash me out.” She turned and threw him a hundred-dollar chip.

                            “ Have the cashier bank this to my room account. I’ll pick it up later.”

  
                                       “Yes mam! And congratulations on a hand well played.” She turned to the Texan.

  
                                       “ You could learn something from me, kid “ she paused and put on her sunglasses, cocked a knowing smile. “ I never quit and I never lose.” She

                      tilted her head and winked at him as she swiveled her chair the new guy. As she stood, she gave him a slight smile.

  
                                      “ Now that sounds like a challenge.” The slight accent only accentuated his chuckle as he slowly took off his sunglasses, revealing piercing emerald green eyes and

                     flashed one killer of a smile.

 

                                       “ Sounds like it, doesn’t it?” She replied with a raised eyebrow. A surge of almost primal instinct pulsed through her, an animalistic urge to jump on him and tear

his cloths from his body. She slid threw the small space between their chairs, brushing her leg against his. She turned, grabbed her jacket, and left with her house marker. She flopped

on her jacket and made her way across the casino. She could feel eyes following her, and not just his, but the Texans as well. That tattoo on his arm, see didn’t the entire thing, but she

was certain it was a glift of the Kilgar. A minor branch of the trinity, yet none the less something to be concerned about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See the happy moron  
He doesn’t give a dam  
I wish I were a moron  
My God! Perhaps I am!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                 In her room she set the recorder and described the evening’s events as she packed her cloths.

                            “ Granted the Kilgar are minor nuance, their an of shoot of the Trinity known as the Kinla. The Trinity formed millennia ago out of, what those of us that survived and

were true to the path, the Onla, called the great betrayal.” She paused in reflection. “ You know I’m getting ahead of myself. I think I actually left off back when I was still with my old master, Zeltar.

We had just left the hall of Orin and Master Zeltar sent us on our way to reflect on what we had just learned. The next morning, after we had all rested, we gathered in the gardens waiting for our

Master to arrive. Most of us were siting in quiet reflection, or at least were trying too . . .

 

…

 

  
                                               DRhea tried mediation, but her mind kept racing with questions. And it appeared that she wasn’t the only one. The very out spoken, restless, student, Melox,

was overly agitated. Opening her eyes, she spoke softly to him in the calming tonal voice that Master Seila had been teaching them. She had explained that those of us who mastered this

special talent of manipulating their vocal cords could sway a persons resolve to the desired actions. Such as, calming someone down, or even shutting them up.

 

                                    “ Melox, there is no need to pace. Master Zeltar will be here when he is here. In the mean time, please stop punishing the stone path. It has not done anything

              to wrong you. Sit down.” He huffed and sat down on a stone bench. Almost growling he sprang up.

  
                                      “OH you . . .” waving a finger, “ Don’t use that pathetic excuse for talent on me!”

  
                                     “ Pathetic? It did make you sit down for a bit didn’t it?” she said simply as she smiled with her eyes firmly shut.

  
                                     “ I was going to anyway!”

                                     " Now acting like a child will not resolve anything. Why don’t you have a seat with the rest of us and try your mediation. It would to wonders for your patience.”

                                    “ Don’t tell me what to do! If I want to pace, I’ll pace!” his face turned red with anger. And using the strongest vocal tones she could manage, she commanded him.

                                   “SIT DOWN!” Reacting to the command like scolded child, he quickly sat down. However he was nowhere near one of the stone benches so he ended up flopping

on the ground. Unable to break the command and move to a bench, which gave him much to complain about and others to laugh about.

                                    “This is ridiculous! Let me up!” She raised one finger to her mouth.

                                    “ Shh, no talking.” As she closed her eyes and attempted to return to her meditation with out laughing with the others.

  
                        ‘ It’s pretty funny if you think about it thou.’ DRhea chuckled as she folded one of her mid drift shirts. ‘ Mister big and bad shut down by little old me, five years his junior.

You see the reason he was at the same level of training as I was is that I was found in my seventh year. As where he was found in his twelve year, a bit later than the normal age of ten.

  
I think that is why he was always so hostile to others. He felt like an outsider when he came to the school. Being the oldest one in his group and everyone his age more advanced than he.

Melox obviously disliked me because skills were always advancing more rapidly than his. I couldn’t help it, I guess it was just genetics. As we got older there seemed to be a rift forming

among the students.

  
                            The more restless, gun hoe types to revolve around Melox. And the more disciplined, of sorts, gathered around in my circle. Not to say I was so important, but I believe it

was because of the rivalry between Melox and myself. I never could keep my opinions to myself. But anyway, after Melox had a chance to sit there stewing for awhile, Master Zeltar

approached with the grace of panther. With a ghost like smile on his face as he glanced down at Melox, who was unsuccessfully attempting to meditate and over at me who was deep

into mediation.  As he approached her he made not a single sound. With her eyes firmly shut she couldn’t possible have seen him. But as he suddenly threw a punch directly at her

face her hand flew up, grabbing his arm, throwing him to the ground. With all of the commotion, students popped out of their mediation to see their master laying on the ground, flat

on his back, DRhea standing above him.

  
                                            “Oh great gods! What have I done?’ she ran and knelt by his side. “ O Master can you forgive me?” He pushed her down rolling her onto her back and held her down 

           with one hand on her throat.

  
                                           “ Now there are several lessons here. First, never let your guard down, those whom you may help may just hurt you for your kindness. And second,” he backed

           off and helped her up by the hand. “Never apologize for that which you have done correctly.”

  
                                          “ Correctly? Do you mean to say that . . .”

  
                                           “ That it was a test, yes. And you passed remarkable accuracy.” He smiled as he brushed his white robe off. “Come class we must gather in the great hall.”

            As the crowd started moving he pulled her to the side. “So how about letting him up, umm? He motioned towards Melox still sitting Indian style in the path with an evil look on his face.

  
                                         “Oh you saw that, uh?”

  
                                         “Yes.” He leaned in and whispered, “ Well played.” He patted her on the shoulder and left to heard the rest of the group towards the great hall. DRhea turned and

            looked at the boiling Melox.

  
                                        “ Come boy.” She turned and walked after the departing group as Melox jumped to his feet and brushed himself off.

  
                                        “ You’re going to regret this.” He mumbled.

  
                                       “ Perhaps, but not any time soon.” She called back to him.

 

 

                           Once gathered inside the great hall, Master Zeltar took on his lecturing roll.

  
                             “After the battle, the Anla’s numbers were diminished. But they were grateful for their earthy brothers’ help. Because of the continuing threat of the Hanla, they decided

to live among humans instead of returning to their seclusion. They began training humans for the certain coming onslaught. Some even took humans as mates. The high priest/warrior that

had started the rebellion became mate to the queen of the Anla, their first born son they named Orin.”

  
                              “If this were true why are our numbers so small. There should be millions of us by now.” Melox was always a smart-ass. He had the attitude that he knew better than

others. Being hand picked by Dirndl himself, he thought himself the chosen heir apparent.

  
                              “ Well young student, you are very right in questioning this.” Melox smirked, showing his haughty side. “ That is you would be right if that was the end of the story, which

it is not, as of the lack of Anla in our mist.” Melox’s jaw dropped like a brick from a two-story building. As his cheeks started to turn red, Master Zeltar continued. “ As he grew, Orin and the

other half breed children were noticeably stronger, faster, smarter, and better at Anla training than full human children, which gained them even more favor form the Anla. Their fair looks and

unmatched health and skill drew much jealousy and anger from the ‘normal’ community.

                               As time past the Anla grew tired of waiting for an attack from the Hanla. They chose to gather their forces and prepared to peruse them into the stars. But before they

left, they bestowed the best of their trainees with the greatest honor, the gift of the burning flower. But only those who were strong enough would survive the trial. To those who survived,

life everlasting would be endowed. Baring dismemberment or fiery demise, they would always regenerate and return to full health. The strongest was naturally the decedents of the Anla.

The people cried out.

  
                                “ This is not right! We all should partake in this gift!”

  
                                But the Anla told them ‘Only those who’s heart is pure, strong enough to endure, and is willing always to walk the path of the burning flower shall be forever.”

  
But as the Anla prepared to leave, the people rose up against Orin and the others, making war against their brothers. The Queen of the Anla, before leaving, gave Orin, in his thirty fifth year,

a sapling of the burning flower tree and the sacraments, then told him ‘ Make not war with the sons of man. The path of the Burning flower does not go that way. The path leads you and your

kin into hiding and secrecy.’

  
                                ‘ But great lady, what is the path?’

  
                                ‘The path is to protect this world. Multiply your numbers and prepare for the Hanla’s return, should we fail.’

  
                       And with that Orin gathered those he could, gave them the sacraments, and lead them into hiding. The others scattered to the wind. And to this day we still search for 

the remaining decedents. That is all for today, go and practice your fighting skills.” As they left DRhea walked close to him.

  
                                   “Why do you tell us this years before our training is complete? Are you not worried that we might develop a god complex, finding out we are descended from the ones

our ancestors called gods?” He smiled and said.

  
                                    “ Precisely why we do it. So we can weed out the would be gods before they get to the trial and become an immortal terror upon the world.”

  
                  After that they spent the next two days and nights alternating mediation, contemplation, and discussion of what we now knew. Just before dawn of the third day, Master Zeltar

entered the commons room interrupting a much-heated conversion between DRhea and Melox.

  
                                   “Well, and on the third day there is life after all!”

  
                     Both Melox and DRhea fell silent, embarrassed that he caught them squabbling like little school children. “ Now that that’s over with,” he clapped his hands. “ Come, dress

your selves for the awakening, the time approaches.” With that he spun around and walked from the chamber. We quickly dressed in our finest, combed our hair, and made ourselves presentable.

As we filed into the open-air temple, Melox still insisted that he was right, that this whole thing was a hoax.

  
                                      “ Well then I guess we will see whom is right very shortly, wouldn’t we?” DRhea said with a huff and walked past him towards the front of their viewing area. As the

candles and torches were lit the temple began to take on a golden glow. Master Zeltar stood in front of the lifeless bodies of the twelve seekers.

  
                                      “Now in the hour of awakenings we shall await the rise of a new platoon of guards.” As the full moon reached it’s apex, a low beautiful song rose from the crowd,

mostly the older ones whose education was been further along. The language it was sung was unlike any that she had ever heard before. It tingled her senses, making the hair on the back of her

neck stand on end. All of this seemed so familiar, pulling at the back of her mind like a memory forgotten. But she knew she had never seen or heard of such a thing before. Suddenly her

heart jumped into her throat and she could barely breath. The one she knew as Sela moved slightly. Suddenly she sat straight up taking a deep rasping breath, her eyes wide like someone had

just thrown a bucket of cold water on her as she slept. As her face relaxed she slumped back onto her cushion and laid there taking deep breaths like someone who had almost drown, coughing

to get the air back in her lungs. My master, in his roll as high priest, stood and in his saintly, almost regal manor, stepped to her and offered his hand. As she gripped it he helped her to her feet,

leading her to the front of the plateau. Acolytes came forward with the long robe of the guard and fastened it around her shoulders. With his hands up lifted he announced,

  
                                     “ Our first new elite guard!” the crowd roared in applause and howls. As each rose they were announced and draped with the ceremonial red robe.

  
                                    ‘One day this could be me. Then I will take my place among my ancestors and take up the code that drives us. And one day I may even lead the charge to battle

against the Hanla if they ever return.’ She kept thinking, DRhea couldn’t keep her mind from wondering. Master Zeltar paused after announcing the sixth guard and seemed to look right her

and smiled like he knew what she was thinking. Which was really annoying because he did that a lot. Usually when she was thinking as a hormonal adolescent. He always seemed to know just

how to embarrass her and took much pride in it.

  
                                    “Embarrassment is good. It teaches you that you still need work.” He’d say or “ Embarrassment is good for your health. It puts roses in your cheeks.” As her cheeks

reddened he turned away from her. Nine of the twelve had risen and took their place among the Guards. Nearly three hours had past and now as dawn approached a low mournful sound rose

out of the crowd in the same language as before. It invoked images of sadness that filled the crowd. Three did not past the trial, and in the process have forfeited their lives. As the song broke,

the high priest stood before the assembly.

  
                                   “ Rejoice we now welcome nine new guards to our fight. Four guards, four high guards, and one elite guard. May their candles never dim.” The crowd cheered.

As he spoke one of the priestess extinguished three of the twelve candles on the altar. “But we must not forget those who’s flames were quenched. They devoted their lives to the path and

one day, perhaps, they will be reborn and rejoin our people. But let’s not mourn their lost but celebrate their lives.” He rose his hands his out stretched hands high and in a booming joyous voice,

                                  “ Let the feast begin!” and with that a great horn sounded and the sound of many musical instruments rose to festival level. Horns, lyres, lutes, drums, and people

throwing flower petals like confetti. It almost made DRhea forget about the three, for a brief moment. As people moved out of the temple laughing and singing, a few among those who had

never witnessed this before lingered. DRhea among them, had mixed feelings. It seemed that the others felt the same as well. How can we rejoice when friends have past? She was jolted

out of thought by the master’s voice.

  
                                  “Now why have fifteen remained . . . Oh I think I know. But don’t fret, they knew the risks and accepted them. Now go on, the festival is starting and I’m sure they

will need your help.” He started showing them out when DRhea spoke up.

  
                                 “ But Master, is life not so important that we should not mourn it’s passing?” He smiled as the others passed by. He came to her and placed a warm hand on her shoulder

as he walked her to the door.  
                                 “My dearest child, yes life is very precious, as you know. And we will morn it’s passing in our own way. But it is so precious that we should celebrate the fact that it has

happened at all. That we were fortunate enough to have our lives enriched by their presence. Because what are we but the sum of our experiences and with out them having been in our lives

we would not be the same. So you see as we continue on so do they, as we do we in those whom we influence. Those who do not survive the trial and become eternal physically, become eternal

threw us.” He patted her shoulder as they exited the temple behind the others. “ Now go, enjoy, think not of this any more. All of you!” He stepped aside and waved them off.’

 

 

  
. . .

 

 

 

                         She closed the flap of her bag and sighed.

  
                                       “He was right of course. They knew they were going to die and only a slim chance that they would rise again. As I did when I drank from the cup. But what’s

done is done. I can’t change that if I wanted to. So I regret the path I chose? No, it needed to be done.” She grabbed the recorder, shutting it off as she placed it into the front of her bag.

She gathered her things and paused at the door, looking back in hindsight. She sighed then turned of the light.   As DRhea left the elevator, bag in tow, she was meet by the hotel concierge.

A whining, dainty, little man with too much cologne and the mannerisms of a small toy dog.

  
                                       “ Madam, madam,” he huffed as he ran beside her long stride. “ Ah mam?”

  
                                      “ Speak before you start to annoy me.” She spoke without missing a stride.

  
                                      “ Yes of course, about your marker.” He said as he fidgeted with the paperwork in his arms.

  
                                      “What about it?”

                                      “Well it seems that since you were . . . are checking out now instead of well . . . two days hence as planed we seem to have hit a little snag.” She paused,

                      turned towards him and raised one eyebrow.

                                      “Snag?”

                                      “ Yes well,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “ It seems that we will not have the entire currency until morning.”

                                      “Till morning? Are you telling me that a casino in Las Vegas is broke?”

                                     “ Oh dear me no! No! Far from it. It’s just that it is the slow season and cash on hand is low and . . . “ she waved her hand at his incised babbling.

                                     “ Enough! I do not require the entire amount in cash. Give me five grand cash and the rest split and wired to these to accounts.’ She flipped him a card with

                 the numbers to both to an account in Zurich and one in the Cayman's.

  
                                       “ Yes of course, that will work perfectly. Now just the matter of your marker.” She pushed her sunglasses back up her nose, turned and continued towards the front desk.  
 

                                     “You’ll get it back with the printed verification of the transfers.”

  
                                     “ Oh yes, of course, that will be fine.” She said as he scurried back behind the front desk to the office, account numbers in hand.

                                    “I’ll be back for the conformations. Just take the room off the top.”

                                     “Certainly madam. And I hope your stay was a wonderful one.” The little, small-framed girl behind the counter chirped cheerfully. So young and so ignorant

of the world, DRhea thought. She was probably twenty years old or so, went to hotel management school, got a degree. She probably thinks she knows it all. Well prepared for what the

world would throw at her, if she only knew. DRhea chuckled as she signed the check out slip.

  
                                       “ It was definitely memorable.” ‘And it will prove even more memorable before I leaves Vegas.’ She thought as she gathered her things. She walked out

heading towards the parking lot. A young man hopped forward cheerfully with his hand open for her valet ticket. Greed glimmered in his eyes, knowing that she was loaded and hoped

for a large tip.  “ Reign it back in buckaroo. I’m just putting my things in my trunk.” He stopped dead, his face sank in like he just found out a close friend had just died. “ Don’t worry kid,

you’ll get a very large tip if you can follow instructions.” She said calming him down as she opened her trunk and placed her bags inside.

  
                                        “ Now what was your name?”

                                        “ Sean, madam.”

  
                                         “Sean, good name.” She said as she turned him by his shoulder herding him back towards the curb. “Now here’s what I need.” She placed her arm around

his shoulders drawing him near as she spoke. As they approached the curb they stopped and she turned to the slightly shorter kid.    “Now you think you can handle all of that?”

                                          “Yes . . .yes of course, here in Vegas you can get just about anything, and I mean anything. But what do you need with . . .”  
                   

                                         “Sean, Sean, Sean, no questions, only results, got it?”

  
                                       “Yes, sorry about that. Don’t worry everything will be done before you get back. And at a very modest price, I might add.” She half smiled and patted him on

the back, then reached inside her leather jacket.

                                       “Of course, now here.” She pulled forty dollars out, placing it into his hand. “ This should cover all of the supplies and this . . .” she pulled out two hundred-dollar bills.

His eyes widened as his hand shot up to grab them. “ Whoa, not so fast!” she pulled her arm back, keeping it just out of reach. She held them up and tore them in half, placing on half of

each into his waiting hand. “Now you’ll get the other halves after completion, got it?”

  
                                       “Yes mam!” he jumped off running. She chuckled as she placed the other halves in an envelope and shoved it into her inside coat pocket. As she turned to

walk down the sidewalk, she caught a glimpse of someone lurking in the shadows. Pretending not to notice she continued and walked into the night-lights of the Vegas strip.

  
DRhea walked past casino after casino, leading her mysterious follower threw a maze of slot machines and gaming tables, threw crowds and side streets, always being sure to remain with in

sight as not to lose him. But all the while giving him the impression she was unaware of his presence, with only a careful glance backwards every now and again. After at least two hours of

playing cat and mouse with him she figured she bought Sean enough time to do his work. She only hoped he was greedy enough not just to take the forty bucks and run, but actually did

the work to get the other halves of the hundred dollar bills. Gradually she worked her way back towards more isolated streets, knowing this would excite her pursuer.

                            He’d now start planing and waiting for his opportunity. Working out how he was going to spring his trap, all the while she was the one with the trap waiting to be sprung.

Nothing fancy, but yet unexpected non the less. DRhea turned down a desolate ally way. “Perfect!” She thought. “Just the right setting. No bystanders, innocent or other wise, to get in the way.

” She slowed her pace about half way down. She could hear footsteps behind her. When they got close enough, she slowed nearly to a stop. For a brief moment all she could hear was her heart

beating in almost slow motion. As she reached up under her leather jacket and grasped the handle of her 9mm pistol. With her left foot forward she pivoted around to her right, bringing her

gun to bare. An old raggedy looking hobo stood there shaking, eyes wide, looking as he could wet himself. DRhea relaxed her arm.

  
                                         “I . . . I don’t have any money, I don’t . . .” He whimpered.

  
                                         “ Get out of here. It’s not safe.”

  
                                       “Don’t shoot me!” He raised his hands defensively.

  
                                      “Relax kid,” she reached in her inside pocket and tossed him a small wade of bills. “I’m not after you. Take it and run.” He grabbed the waded and lose bills off

the ground as he nearly groveled his graduated wearing his patience thin. He follower must be close. This hobo had to get gone as quickly as possible, least he get in the way.

  
“ Leave now!” She waved her gun at him as he shot straight up with his eyes wide like a deer in headlights or like he had just seen a ghost.

                                Suddenly she heard a noise behind her. She spun around to look but it was too late. A large arm grabbed her around the waist, as the other grabbed her wrist,

holding the gun away. When her eyes focused, she was in full embrace, held tightly against a muscular wall of flesh. He had caught her in the middle of a breath and she found it hard to

breathe wrapped in his arms.

  
                                       “Now you shouldn’t be waving these things about, they have a tendency to go off.” He said as he gently took the gun from her hand. It was the enthralling

man from the black jack table. She had expected to snare that cocky Texan and work him over to find out what he knows. But it seems that she was the one snared in an, oh so enticing

trap. She looked back over her shoulder to see the hobo had run for the hills, finally. DRhea looked up into his dangerous eyes. She struggled, trying to break free. But no matter what she

tried, though not too hard, she could not free her self. He pulled both of her arms close, tight to his chest.

                                        “No need to struggle.” He smiled gently, enjoying himself a little too much. “I’m just here to help. You’re not in this alone, and yes you do need help, my dear.

                                 No matter what you think.”

  
                                        “Let go!” She rasped with suborn malice. “ I need no one’s help.”

  
                                         “And yet here you are the one trapped, and not the trapper.” His voice nearly laughing as he slowly released her. She pulled away and straightened her shirt

                  and jacket with one quick motion.

  
                                         “ And perhaps that was part of my plan along.” She huffed.

  
                                        “Yeah, I can see how that would be efficient.” He chuckled as he stuffed the muzzle of the gun under his belt with his right hand. She backed up to get a better look at him in the light.

                                         “So what is it that you are doing here?” She said, placing her hands on her hips like a proctor in front of a rowdy class.

  
                                        “Attempting to keep you out of trouble.” He raised one corner of his mouth in a knowing smile.

  
                                        “ You’re a few millennia late for that!”

  
                                        “Your current troubles.”

  
                                        “ What do you know about it?” she smirked back.

  
                                        “ I know plenty.”

  
                                        “You know squat!”

  
                                         “I know enough.”

  
                                          “Like what?”

  
                                        “Like the two guys, pulling guns, that just turned the corner.”

  
                                         “ Shows you what you know, there’s three. One’s on the fire escape, taking up a sniper position.”

  
                                        “ Ah very perspective of you. Did you work hard at being always right or were you born with it.”

  
                                          “Natural talent, so you go right I go left?”

  
                                        “ Mine or yours?” she scrunched her nose at him.

  
                                        “Just move smart ass!” they both reached for their guns, him with his right, with her left under her right arm. As she swung around, his left arm wrapped around

her waist, guns flaring side by side. DRhea leaned back, flipping over his arm, taking out the sniper in mid air before landing on her feet. Direct hits on all. He snapped back looking at her.

 

                                         “Quick, that won’t hold them for long.”

  
                                         “In deed.” They turned and ran down the ally as sirens started growing louder in the distance. “Good thing it takes the young ones longer to recover.”

They turned down the nearest street trying to put as much distance between them and the trio. DRhea turned heading back towards the hotel. He screeched to halt and yelled after her.

  
                                          “No! Not that way! They’ll be looking for you there. This way, I know a place.”

  
                                           “Well you made the question of your place or mine easier.” She mumbled as she ran after him. He seemed almost cheerful as they darted from street to street.

They finally slowed when in sight of a seedy looking little hole in the wall motel. He started chuckling as he stopped to catch his breath.

  
                                          “Can you imagine the look on those cops faces when the coroner starts making chalk body out lines and the bodies get up and walk away.”

  
                                          “Yeah, classic. Till the cops arrest them and start questioning them about who shot them.” She stressed as she paced back and forth. He stood up right and

shook his head lightly.

  
                                          “Relax, what are they going to say. Sorry about the mess officer, but you see we were just chasing after a couple of really old people, that don’t look old because

they don’t age, because of some old bullshit that happened who knows how long ago. But don’t worry because it’s a civil matter and there is no need to press charges. Because as you see,

bullets don’t have that big of an impact on us.”

  
                                           “ I can see the centuries haven’t dulled your sense of humor.” She scoffed at him.

  
                                            “And here I thought you’d forgotten.” He stood there with the biggest cockiest smile across his face.

                                            “It’s hard to forget about a sword threw the gut and being shoved over the side of a Roman galley in the middle of the Mediterranean. My favorite part was

the oars slapping me under. It took me awhile in the casino because of the hair.” He raised one eyebrow inquisitively. “ Or lack there of. When did you decide to de-wookie yourself? Next

thing you know you’ll go all Mr. Clean and start to wax?”

  
                                           “Come on now don’t hate.”

  
                                           “Oh great gods, he’s quoting pop culture…. badly!” she raised her hands towards the sky. “Save me from this madness!”

 

                                           “Now that was uncalled for.”

                                            “Hey you said relax, sarcasm calms my nerves.”

                                           “So I remember.”

                                            “No really when did you go all GI-Joe?”

                                            “Oh I guess I started back around the rebellion.”

                                            “ Boxer or French?”

                                            “ Spartacus.”

                                            “Ooh a gladiator, go figure.”

                                           “Yeah after we,” he cleared his throat, “ parted ways,” she raised one finger.

                                          “Ah sore subject.” She said, raising a finger.

                                           “ Well if it’s any consolation the Roman captain double crossed me as well. He clamped me in irons and sent me down to row with the rest. Keeping the treasure for

                                 him self as a ‘well deserved’ payment and sold me to the gladiator pits to boot.”

                                          "Ah what irony! The betrayer being betrayed.”

                                          “Ha ha.” They stopped in front of the office door.

                                          “So this is your ideal of a hide out? Like they’re not going to look in an out of the way motel. That’s where everyone hides. Why did I listen to you?” she crossed her arms in disgust.

                                          “Relax this isn’t the place, exactly. My contact, a good friend of mine, is. Come on I’ll introduce you two.” He walked up and opened the door motioning her in. the

last time she followed a man holding a door open she ended up on an unstoppable roller coaster that has lasted millennia. DRhea walked forward, paused looking at him and continued shaking

her head slightly. He followed and pushed past he as he walked to the front desk and rang the bell. A little old woman came out from the back room.

                                          “Now who the hell is ringing at this time of night? I know it’s the city that never sleeps but I do!”

                                           “Neddy!” he said in a low playful voice. “You wouldn’t turn me away would you?” her eyes lit up.

                                           “Mark, my boy!” how good to see you again!” she grabbed him by the face and squeezed.

                                          “Now Neddy,” he pulled her hands from his face and held them. “I’d love to catch up but it’s really necessary that we have a place to lay low for the night.”

  
                                           “We, eh? You got a little vixen with you, uh?”

  
                                           “Ha ha, just an old friend, Neddy.”

  
                                          “Yeah sure, a good looking guy like you.” And Eire familiar laugh came out of her.

  
                                            “Deja vu” DRhea thought as she stepped to the side and looked past him. It was the old woman from the motel in the middle of nowhere. “Impossible.”

                        Escaped from her lips. Both the old woman and Mark looked at her.

                                             “Well saint’s be praised! You made it here unscratched. It’s great to see you again dear.”

                                            “Wait, what so you mean made it here?” DRhea gave Mark harsh look. His face dropped into a child like sarcastic version of oops. “Why you little . . . “

                                            “Now, now, no need to curse dear.”

                                             “Don’t get mad at me. I knew you wouldn’t except my help right away so I just . . . gave you a few nudges here and there.”

                                             “Nosy, meddling, little . . .” she mumbled under her breath. “ Well I hope you have a better plan than staying in one of these rooms. History has already

                          proven they are not the safest hiding spots.”

                                              “Oh no dear, I have a much better set up here. A lot cozier.” She chuckled as she grabbed a key from the shelf under the counter. They followed her down the

                          hallways. DRhea glanced around at the decor. “We try to keep a running theme in all of our places, to let the right people know they are in the right place.”

                                              “What, a sort of under ground rail road for immortals on the run?”

                                              “Of sorts yes. Using it to hide those that need to set up a new identity because there’s was compromised. But it also works in your case as well.”

                                              “What, you mean running from psychos isn’t high on the list? Gee I thought it would make at least top ten.”

                                              “Well it did make the top twenty, though, right behind tax fraud.” Mark chuckled.

                                             “Well here we are, the honeymoon suite.” She chuckled as her aged fingers turned the lock. DRhea raised a brow at Mark.

                                             “Honeymoon?”

                                              “Hey, uh Neddy?” he seemed slightly embarrassed as he ran his hand over his head. “We’re not uh . . .” she turned around laughing.

                                              “No dear I haven’t loss my marbles yet. This is were the secret hied hole is at.”

                                             “OH” As they entered, DRhea noticed the tacky decor didn't stop with the hallways. “Heart shaped bed, Jacuzzi, mini bar, wet bar, . . . lotion bar?

                                  You stepping into the twenty first century Neddy?” she chuckled.

                                              "Well it is Vegas after all.”

                                               “Indeed but not exactly low key or secret when you can look it up in the phone book, now is it.”

                                               “That’s why I had the architect include,” she walked to the fireplace and pulled at the brick facing tripping a side door to open. “ a priest hole.”

                                               “And oh so not predictable. What happens when they are searching the room and decide to check for just a thing?”

                                               “Well after you enter there is a switch that shuts off the outside trigger until you exit. And just in case, you also can lock it from the inside.”

                                               “Cool!”

                                               “I may be from the twelfth century but I try to keep up with the times.”

                                              “ Twelfth century?”

                                              “ Yes dear, I was a guard, of sorts, since the dark ages. What my looks haven’t kept up with me?” she chuckled as she fluffed her silvery hair.

                                              “Not at all, you are as glorious as the first day I saw you in the meadow.” Mark said as he jokingly swept her into his arms and waltzed her around

                              the room as she laughed and giggled.

  
                                             “Oh Mark, you do make a girl feel like she’s two hundred again.”

  
                                            “Neddy your such a flirt!” he kissed her on the cheek and let her go.

  
                                            “Well here you go dears, check . . .” DRhea interrupted her.

  
                                             “Let me guess, check out’s at noon and,’ she laughed softly, “ Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” She winked.

  
                                             “But of course, good night dears.” She pulled the door close behind her. Mark jumped onto the bed with a big smile on his face.

  
                                             “So what side do you want? Or we could,” he patted the bed beside him, “just figure it out alone the way.” She walked towards him as he started to lay back.

  
                                             “Well I’ll take the middle and you,” she grabbed the blanket and pulled, rolling him onto the floor, “ can take the carpet.” He hit the floor with a resounding thud.

                                             “Oh come on baby. Don’t be cruel.” He said with a very bad impression of Elvis.  
 

                                             “Not a chance, you actually deserve more than just sleeping on the floor.” She fluffed the sheets and threw her jacket on the near by chair. “Better get comfy we

                                  leave come first light.”

  
                                               “First light? That’s six hours from now. We could waste some time if you want.”

  
                                               “Get some sleep if you can, I have a feeling we’re not going to get a chance for awhile. And if you can’t, I suggest a cold shower.”

  
                                               "Oooo ice queen.”

  
                                              “Shut up and go to sleep.” She tossed him a blanket and pillow then clicked off the lights and crawled into bed. She slipped of her pants, chucking them to 

the side, making herself more comfortable. Mark settled in but after awhile he rolled over.

  
                                               “DRhea, can I ask you a question?”

  
                                               “No”

  
                                                "But”

  
                                                “No”

  
                                               “Fine.” He rolled back over and pulled the blanket up tight.

  
                                               “Ok, what?” his voice floated up to her filled with a sad longing and regret.

  
                                              “ If things happened differently, do you think we would still be together?” DRhea pushed her eyes close together.

  
                                            “Perhaps.” She couldn’t say the truth. She knew if they hadn’t been separated the way they were, of course they would be. A part of her still longed for those

                                   days, for his touch, the smell of his skin. Even now, the soft way he said her name. He was the only one who ever called her that, and it made her insides jelly. But her pride

                                   wouldn’t let her admit it. “Get some sleep Telon. Who knows what the day will bring.”

  
                                           He couldn’t believe that she actually called him by his old name. He hadn’t been called that in centuries. Not even Neddy knew him as that. Mark laid his head down

                                and tied to suppress old feelings, as DRhea did the same. DRhea finally fell asleep, but her dreams were filled with memories of the past. It was so long ago, but still so fresh the pain was.


End file.
